


Smiling Illusions

by MapleThisOff



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, but not enough to be tagged y'know?, exe's mentioned a bit, i should really write something happy for these two they hecking deserve it, pain pain lotsa pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleThisOff/pseuds/MapleThisOff
Summary: The jester is great at creating illusions of all kinds. One could say it's the only thing he's able to do.





	Smiling Illusions

The lynching haunted him, running throughout his mind and draining Tadesse’s energy. No amount of sleeping pills could drown it out. No amount of deep breaths could calm his nerves whenever he recollected it. It was like a recurring nightmare, except this time it was all real. He tossed and turned, the final words of Erlendr endlessly repeating in his head. 

“We’ll hang out again sometime.” 

The pun felt bitter on his tongue when his body hung limply from the rope, the life immediately being snatched out of it. It was supposed to make him laugh, all of his puns did. But this time, his laughter was replaced by tears. Tears holding all the sadness and grief of the world, tears that dribbled down his cheeks, staining them with sorrow. He felt incapacitated at that moment, as if he was the one lynched instead of Erlendr. But no one cared, he was the only one grieving for this man. In their eyes he was a criminal, a murderer, a disgrace, an insult. But the street performer refused to let that be his memory. In his heart he lived on as a blessing, a gift from God. 

Tadesse clung onto the pillow like his life depended on it, his eyes stinging from the tears. He didn’t want to move, didn't feel like eating, and didn't bother to drink. Nothing felt like it was worth the effort. Erlendr’s voice echoed in the empty rooms, distant memories living on. Some nights Tadesse could have sworn he heard Erlendr’s laughter or seen his towering presence for a brief moment. If he was quiet enough, he believed that he could hear the voice of the deceased man softly murmuring something. It was as if the house itself didn’t want to let him go, as if his memory was sentient. His home was stuck in time, deceiving him into thinking he was still alive, that his life was alright, that nothing went wrong. But it was all just the tapestries of illusions constructed by falsehoods. The jester’s own house was the stage of a show that was directed by his shattered mind, repeatedly tearing his heartstrings out. It used his own memories against him, tarnishing those gleeful moments with sadness. It was emotionally draining, and he was the lone audience member of this show. He was the only one that encountered these illusions formed by pain. He was gone, no doubt about it. It wasn’t a performance or a trick. No doubles, holograms or misleading actions. What he saw was the truth, nothing more and nothing less. The performer trembled, feeling more tears form in his eyes. His skin felt cold, yearning for the feeling of his husband’s warm arms. All he wanted was one last hug, one last joke, one last conversation. But it was too late, he was gone.

The engagement ring felt heavy on his finger, weighed down by his emotions. The wedding band burned, bitterly reminding him of all the lost moments that could have been. Tadesse felt empty, his eyes too dry to cry anymore tears. Time seemed to slow for him. Everyday dragged on, leaving him more and more beat up. Hours felt like eons, and days felt like they would never end. He was trapped in a endless storm of grief. But that didn’t stop him. Everyday he would step out, a fake smile plastered on his face. Makeup covered the bags under his eyes from the sleepless nights. Eye drops dissolved the redness from the tears his eyes strained to shed. Long, puffy, polka-dotted sleeves hid the scars etched into his thinning wrists. Everything looked fine. No one noticed a thing while he caught knives with his teeth and juggled his chainsaws. No one noticed while he performed small tricks for the children. No one noticed anything when he would cause cards to disappear in a cloud of sparkling smoke. It was an effective mask. But the smiles of the other townspeople jabbed him, almost like they were taunting him. Unlike his, they held happiness. They held emotion. They weren’t created from the reassuring lies he told himself. They were real. 

Every night Tadesse dragged himself home, sliding his silk gloves off and walking to the bathroom. He would splash water on his face, letting the powder and foundation stream off. Concealer melted off his face, exposing his swollen eye bags. It was as if a completely different person was revealed. A lonely, desperate person hiding beneath layers and layers of makeup and magic tricks. Illusions were so easy for him to create. He could spin his fake happiness just as easily as he could create disappearing objects and floating cards. It wasn’t difficult to trick someone into thinking the shining gleam in his eyes from the tears was actually a sparkle of joy. It was easy to say “I’m alright” and ignore the obvious truth. It was all so easy, and it all landed in place perfectly. Yet he still felt something was missing. It looked so fake to him, as if it was devoid of all emotion. But no one said anything. After all, he constantly displayed to the townspeople that everything was alright. That was all they saw, and what the audience sees is considered the truth. 

**Author's Note:**

> A product of a sudden burst of inspiration. Feel free to point out any mistakes or flaws, and don't be afraid to comment <3


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